Falling in more ways than one
by iamsusan
Summary: The aftermath of Carpe Jugulum. Can Agnes and Vlad figure out whats going on between them? Will the Count suceed in opening his holiday villa to the public? How many people can Lacci kill with her Piano playing. Find out within...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi All**

**This is a repost of an older story that I wrote a few years ago. Dedication is to duchess-susan who persuaded me to resurect the story-Thanks!**

**SHAMELESS PLUG! If you want to know more about Shawn and Millie's relationship, read Royal Logbook of Lancre. Cookies to anyone who figures out Queen Ynci's battle cry!**

**I dont own discworld, I wish I did. **

A Vampire (and yes they were vamp_i_res. They had lost the Y when they lost the Count) sashayed forward. She wore a figure hugging black dress, showing her five stone body off to its best effect. She wore almost an entire eyeliner pencil and dark red -no that's not lipstick staining her lips.

"Vlad..." it was more a purr than a voice.

"Oh Heiraglyphymosadictalotta....." He leaned forward into a long kiss with her.

"Wait...what about that Agnes?" a note of doubt crept into Heiraglyphymosadictalotta's voice. "Am I just a distraction from the witch?"

"What, you mean fat, ugly Agnes? Darling I've forgotten her"

"She did have good hair though...."

"And a wonderful personality" Vlad laughed cruelly "the less said the better. Shall we?" He led her off into a side room where vague whimpers could be heard from what was obviously dinner...

The whimpers became screams, rising to a petrified crescendo ...

**NO!! **

Agnes and Perdita woke simultaneously, sweating, Terrified. But it was nothing to do with the screams, or what the screams meant. No, this was a more personal terror, the thought that maybe Vlad was...

No, she chided herself. It was only a dream. It meant nothing. Besides if he had got together with a gorgeous, thin, witty, gothic, dangerous, female vampire called Heiraglyphymosadictalotta, then Agnes was delighted for him...right?

Perdita of course was furious, outraged, frothing at the mouth (and to be honest enjoying the chance to do so). She wanted to introduce that...that... _vampire..._ to an axe, a stake, a cartload of garlic, a crate of lemon. She wanted to throw poppy seeds (preferably flaming ones) over Hieraglypha-whatsit. Or better shove them in a very personal and uncomfortable place, and steal her socks. All of them. Then shove them where the sun doesn't shine. She wanted to...

She was halfway out of bed before Agnes reclaimed control from a fuming Perdita. She glanced around the familiar bedroom taking in the teddy bears, the doilies on the dresser, and the flowers in a vase on the windowsill. This was her room. It was solid, steady and above all _safe. _But not tonight_. _Nothing was out of place but the room felt wrong anyway. Sinister somehow. The shadows were too long, the darkness too deep. She felt like the room was too small, closing in on her.

_Well,_ Perdita interjected _if you would lose some weight, we might have more room. _

"Shut up" Her voice sounded hollow in the empty room.

She decided to have a cup of tea to calm her nerves. Perdita would rather have had some strong liquor.

* * *

Big, Pink and gloriously wobbly, she sounded like some kind of cocktail. She could've been his. She _should've_ been his. Maybe he could find her? If that damn priest wasn't there of course....If He was Lacci would have some fun...Mind you she was already having far too much fun.

There were a few muffled screams, a clank of machinery, some organic sounds and a bout of swearing.

Vladmir de Magpyre sighed. Laccrimosa had been trying to get a more efficient torture chamber up and running. She had a rack, an iron maiden, a crushing iron boot, a furnace with leather straps, thumbscrews, a collection of bagpipes, some rather interesting looking needles, fluids of a greenish nature and a piano for her to play. It was unclear which of these would strike the most fear into Lacci's victims. Probably her piano playing.

The cause of her rather original swearing was an enormous machine of some description. It looked like a stretcher with rubber cups, waterpower, a few cogs and a BIG lever. It also looked incredibly painful. Lacci was trying to install it into her already overcrowded torture chamber. It wasn't cooperating.

"Uncle would you please stop her? She already has the best equipped torture chamber in all of Uberwald. Besides twelve people have died just moving the thing into the chamber!"

"Lacci did get hungry on three occasions, to be fair to the beast." murmured Count de Magpyre distractedly. The count was looking over plans for his holiday home in Genua "Stayawayfromthe villa". It had a gift shop.

"Are you paying attention uncle? Please?"

"Hmm...How about a cafe? It could be called "don'teatinthegourmet cafe". "

"Inventive."

"I'm thinking about a presidential suite as well"

Vlad gave up. Walking, or more correctly sulking, up to his tower he began to wonder -what was _she_ doing?

* * *

At that particular point in time Agnes was trying to keep a semblance of sanity during the coven meeting at Nanny's cottage. That was the easy part. Trying to keep Perdita quiet was somewhat harder. Besides she knew that Nanny and Granny knew what was happening. They just didn't know how exactly both Perdita and Agnes felt.

She hoped.

"Tea"

"Yes Nanny"

"Biscuit"

"Yes Nanny"

"So then I told our Shawn he has to stop this business with that castle girl. I won't have a Chillum in the family. I won't, I told him," said Nanny Ogg

"Well naturally the Chillum family are a bit cross at this, so then our Dreen was told by Norbut that the Chillum's have decided they don't want an Ogg of any sort in the family" Nanny pointed out

"So then I said to our Shawn, he better get down on one knee right now because I want that girl an Ogg before Hogswatch" supplied Nanny.

It struck her that she hadn't received any murmurs from Agnes, nor any nasty comment from Granny.

Nanny Ogg looked at her coven members in surprise. They weren't right...It was this damned Uberwald business. Agnes/Perdita was missing lover boy and Esme was...was...

Well Nanny wasn't quite sure about that.

"Esme..."

"What?" The word was thrown like a knife

"Are you..."Nanny Ogg tried and failed to find a good way to ask if she was alright. If she phrased it wrong then Granny would deny anything was wrong and sulk for a whole day. If she phrased it right she would be accused of trying tact and Granny would sulk for a whole day. Best just to leave her alone, she thought "...thirsty?" she finished.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you Gytha and if you try anything funny you'll be on your knees croaking." Granny smiled mirthlessly "it's a terrible thing for a grown woman to be on the floor acting like a frog"

Now Nanny knew something was wrong. Granny had been nasty in every way under the sun (even inventing a few new suns in order to fit them in) but she had never been threatening towards her friend. At the risk of provoking Granny further, possibly just be breathing to loudly, Nanny decided to probe Agnes instead.

"So Agnes, hear from that priest of yours yet?"

"No" One word spoken in a tone that said in no uncertain terms the subject is closed.

"How about the vampire? Sorry vamp_y_re."

"No"

Nanny wasn't any good at headology and she certainly couldn't read minds. But she was a witch and given that Agnes was doing the mental equivalent of yelling from the rooftops, it was hard not to pick up on her train of thought.

"So..." said Nanny in the voice psychiatrists use when they have bad news and want to break it gently, without their patients jumping off the chair and start tearing down, and possibly eating, the walls. "Who's Heiraglyphymosadictalotta? "

Agnes sprayed tea all over the cottage wall. (This always happens when someone is presented with a shock. In humorous movies anyway. It's probably all down to quantum.)

"Now look" said Nanny. "Do you know how long that will take to clear up? Tea soaks in you know...the stain won't come out" Two timid looking daughters-in- laws crept in to start the cleaning process. "Anyway who is this Heira-thingee?

"No one, no one at all" she spluttered wiping tea off of her chin.

"Then why is a steady stream of death threats to her floating through your mind?"

A soggy biscuit tried to join the tea. Unfortunately, for them, the two daughters-in-law were now standing directly in the line of fire....

**Please Review**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I Don't own this. Terry Pratchett owns all. All hail. Please review**

"Igor!" The count paced across the carpet in the study, uneasy. His nephew seemed out of sorts and an out of sorts vampire is something no one wants to see, unless they are willing to pay the cleaning bills.

"Yeth marthter?" said Igor, appearing right behind the count. The servant gave a small –gave what was probably a small smile. Being able to lurch, appear apparently out of nowhere and lisp was making him feel like an Igor again. The count had even had his dribbling room restored. Blithth, reflected Igor.

"How are the webs today?"

"My thpiderth are hard at work marthter. But thereth a lot of damage to be undone from the other count. The thellarth were duthted exthtenthively thur. "

"I want to move half of them to stayawayfromthe villa, Igor. Mustn't disappoint the punters, and spider webs are expected."

"I"ll go and break the newth, marthter" He turned and began to shuffle off.

"Igor" the count called "...does Vlad seem quite... normal to you?"

"Couldn"t thay marthter. If I could take a look at hith brain I"d know for thhure"

"No, no quite unnecessary...would you fetch Laccrimosa for me"

"Yeth marthter"

* * *

Vlad was sulking.

He was sulking about a combination of things including his uncle's approach to vampirism, his sisters fascination with pain, being a teenager for a hundred years and chiefly, Agnes's absence from his life. And the cloak he had been forced to wear by his Uncle was uncomfortable and hot. Stupid evening dress...he missed his waistcoat. He had only narrowly managed to keep his ponytail intact. Who cared if it wasn't vampiry?

Life was a witch.

Like Agnes. And unfortunately he couldn't die...

He groaned. She was constantly there, in mind if not body. He should just forget her and move on. Perhaps another girl would help. After all he always felt better on a full stomach. Or maybe he should find a girlfriend. Heiraglypha (Pam) was making eyes at him and Cryptaglotta (she preferred Frances) had suggested a human just for the two of them. Besides Agnes was probably married to that damn priest by now.

He kicked a chair.

Lacci hadn't been helping. Yesterday she'd sent out for a strap extension kit "in case your fat Agnes comes back." She hadn't realised how many knifes that sent through his heart. He hadn't mentioned that to Lacci, though in case she whisked him down to the torture chamber to test the exact number. Lacci was a little testy these days anyway on account of the truly hideous dress she had to wear. He had heard more complaints from her since the count had presented her with the thing than in the rest of their un-life. Tradition be damned, the corset- thing was uncomfortable, the sleeves draped in the blood, a serious problem for a vampire, especially one with such an extensive torture chamber and it was far too revealing. The only thing Lacci had offered in its favour was that the black didn't show the blood.

His uncle wasn't actively trying to hurt him unlike his damn sister, but he had received a number of lectures on the importance of adventurous young women and underwired nightgowns. He could appreciate that they played a vital part in the traditional, hide bound approach to vampirism, and acknowledged that they had their place. It was just a shame his ideal women had three shelves of teddy bears and a fondness for attempting to cut off his head. Of course now every time he looked at the axe his uncle had hung over the fireplace, he was reminded of those precious moments where Agnes had tried to kill him...Of course if she came back

He needed to feed. Surely no one could blame him if he happened to pass over Lancre? And more specifically Agnes's cottage? He could take a wrong turning at Lancre gorge couldn"t he? Accidently of course. Accidently on purpose.....

* * *

Agnes was currently being guided by Perdita.

Well, thought Perdita, not exactly guided. You guide people, small animals, that sort of thing. Not ships.

The problem was, Agnes was mostly attracted to that clown, Oats but there was a part of her that longed for a ponytail, silk waistcoat, flight and immortality.

Perdita, on the other hand was mostly attracted to that gorgeous, wonderfully cool and exciting Vlad. With just a tiny part of her saying that she would rather have someone far more wholesome, who shared her...affliction and had a passionate belief in a higher power. She was even starting to find boils attractive.

What was a girl (or two) to do?

"Damn" she said, enjoying forcing her useless body to swear. If only she could retain control a little longer she could really whip this lump into shape. Not that it would be any use if there was no one to appreciate it.

There were benefits to having no men though. For instance she could...

She could....er.....

There was always...ah...

That was it; Perdita decided, her life was officially over. If only she had been allowed to deal with the whole Vlad episode then they could be living a life of wonderful gothic-y cliché. She could sit in a tall tower for most of the day while bats roosted in the roof and ivy grew everywhere, with a handsome, ponytailed man and ...

Just then Agnes resurfaced, blushed and left to do her rounds. Personal Crises of biblical proportions or not, she still had to trim Mrs Treadle's toenails...

* * *

Darkness was beginning to fall when Vlad launched himself from the highest tower of the castle. It was a cliché, but his Uncle insisted on it. What was the point, he had cried, of being a vampire if you weren't going to launch yourself from the highest tower? He had even installed NoFly© Bars straight from Ankh-Morpork in all the lower windows. He had planned to leave earlier in the afternoon, but since his father's training had lapsed he had received a nasty sunburn just from starting to draw back the curtains. So as clichéd and corny as it was he launched himself off the tallest tower, in the dark with his cloak streaming out behind him, silhouetting him against the full moon.

Uberwald was beautiful by night he had to admit. The rivers, mountains and the castles. The various shouts of "It lives!", "Argh!" and "They said I was mad, Mwahahahaha" punctuated the still night air, providing a perfect ambience to his flight. The little villages and towns bathed in the silvery light, buildings huddled together for protection against the shadowy death that came from above...

He hit himself. He was starting to wax lyrical and that could only be a bad thing. Next thing he would shave off his ponytail, line the damn cloak with red and forget how to use "w" in a vord. Word!

As he approached Lancre gorge an idle thought began to worry him. Supposedly he wasn't able to cross running water. He always had done in the past but without his father's training would he be able to?

"Mind over matter" he murmered to himself. This doesn't contain the usual sentiments expressed by this phrase i.e willpower conquers all but rather sums up a vampires or indeed a vampyres approach to un-life; I don't mind, You don't matter. Blood isn't necessary, it's just a way of keeping score.

Vlad was almost halfway across when the barrier went up. He struggled against it for a few minutes but eventually had to admit defeat and retreat. Standing on the shore he tried to think about what to do next. But his mind was too taken up by a certain witch to focus on any clear plan.

He kicked a stone into the river angrily and turned back towards Dontgonearthe Castle.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I dont own this. Sorry this chapter is short, the muse was uncooperative to say the least. Please Review!**

"_And he shall smite the unbelievers,_

_With fire, ice and sword. _

_He shall crush the unconvinced_

_Beneath his hallowed shoe_

_He shall call his holy arguments_

_Through the letterbox of doom..."_

Mightily- praiseworthy-are-they-who-exalt-Om Oats wasn't quite sure about that last line. When you are hiking through the wilderness of Uberwald you need a song that can inflate your spirits and speak to your heart. Not one about letterboxes.

At least they hadn't actually used the term "hiding behind the sofa" in it. He wondered briefly what a truly accurate song about the church would sound like. It probably wouldn't be very good. "Schism" didn't rhyme well. Nor did "fourteen times a day" or "load of stiff necked idiots" or "Heads up their own bottoms."

In the time since he had left Lancre he had spent a lot of time wondering about the truth of the Church. The holy fire that had been lit in his heart in Lancre burned fiercely stripping away layers of doubt and worry. Unfortunately it had kept going, and managed to light a brighter fire of cynicism, burning away all the church dogma and ritual he had once held so near. The net result was a) he had come to the conclusion that the Holy word of Om was diluted by the church and b) heartburn.

He stopped his progress through the damp, dense Uberwaldean forest in a small clearing. Setting up his tent didn't take long, but sitting in a damp canvas shelter did next to nothing for his mood. He gripped the amulet he wore around his neck, staring despondently at the axe. In that moment he had felt the holy power of Om flow through his body and into the axe. Why did that same holy power not flow into him now? Why could he no longer feel that same presence now? Was Om testing his faith?

No, probably not, he decided. Om didn't go in for tests, or answering prayers or smiting...come to think of it what did he do?

Mightily Oats buried his head in his arms, groaning.

* * *

"Mit_hth_ Lacrimo_th_a? The ma_th_ter want_th_ to _th_ee you."

Lacci cursed under her breath. That damn Igor was doing it deliberately. The stupid exaggerated lisping, the limp, the bloody cobwebs. Her uncle loved it, her brother seemed too wrapped up in fat Agnes to care and her parents were both too busy being dead to do anything about it.

She dismissed the servant irritably and began to climb the stairs out of her beloved torture chamber. It was the only area of the Castle that she actually liked being in. Her uncle had tried to persuade her to give it up and sit in a tower all day, staring wistfully out over the forest below, mourning her lost humanity. She had pointed out to her uncle that a) there was no forest because he'd replaced it with a coach park and b) She couldn't mourn her lost humanity because she'd been born a vampire.

Her uncle had told her that wasn't the point.

The only thing that was keeping her from going completely crazy was her beloved torture chamber and the eternal hope that her dopey brother might get sick of interacting with humans and simply hand them over to her instead.

She reached the door to her uncle's study and knocked on the heavy oak. A cryptic voice answered

"Come in." she pushed the door open wincing at the squeaky hinges. Her uncle stood, silhouetted in the silvery moonlight, gazing out over the wilds of the dark, dangerous place they called home, illuminated by flashes of untamed lightning...

She pinched herself. Poetic language was one of her pet hates. It was so...clichéd and pathetic. To try and counteract the effects of such disgustingly flowery language, she replied "What do you want, Uncle?" There. A simple, straightforward sentence that didn't use eleven letters in a single word.

"Ah, Lacrimosa.' The count sighed sorrowfully. "I see you still will not embrace your birthright. Igor reported to me yesterday on a very disturbing matter." He turned away from the window to face her. "He tells me that he found a bottle of wine in your room." Lacci swore under her breath. "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"

"It isn't wine. It's blood. I got it in case I was thirsty. I..." The count cut her off.

"I had Igor perform an extensive range of tests on the liquid and whilst I don't really want to know the details, he assures me it is wine. Is that not right Igor?"

"Yeth Mathter" Lacci jumped as Igor suddenly appeared behind her. "It wath thertainly wine, thur. I made thhure of it" Lacci had a sudden urge to grab an umbrella although she didn't know what she'd rather do with it. Stab Igor, or protect herself from the side effects of the lisped screams.

"Uncle, I can explain" she started but was cut off again.

"Can you Lacci, Can you? I take you in after the death of your parents. I feed you, clothe you, shelter you, and all I ask is that you learn. I have tried so hard to teach you the merits of traditional Vampirism and you just throw it in my face." He paused, shaking his head. "Wine Lacrimosa? Wine? We do not drink wine. At the worst we may drink_...suspicious pause...vine_. Really, Lacci."

"Uncle it was honestly just a present from Frances!" The count stepped forwards, eyes suddenly Blazing

"FROM WHO?"

"From Cryptaglotta" she said, crestfallen. "But I was going to throw it out, honestly. I don't even like it!"

"Lacrimosa, I am very disappointed in you. But this is my fault. I have been too lax. I thought I could change you slowly. I see some drastic measures are needed." He paused before continuing "I am confiscating the keys to your torture chamber" She gasped at the unfairness of it. But her uncle wasn't finished yet. "And I am insisting that you help out tonight. The castle is fully booked and since your brother is nowhere to be seen, I need your help." He gave her a stern look. "Full make up, exaggerated accents and your best gothic dress are required for tonight!"

"But Uncle...last time someone tried to stake me!" she moaned.

"Well if they succeed, then you will have learnt your lesson, wont you?"

"Yes Uncle." She muttered then stomped out groaning. Putting on all that make up would take hours. And unlike certain human circles that use it as a metaphor, she actually would need a shovel.

* * *

It was dark by the time Agnes got home from her rounds. In some ways doing the menial tasks helped. It gave her jobs to do and kept her conscious mind off of vampires. Especially gorgeous, skinny ones dead set on seducing handsome waistcoated ones

Unfortunately, her subconscious mind resented the manual labour and when Agnes's subconscious mind was unimpressed she tended to let people know. It had been a constant battle of wills and even the simplest tasks had required enormous levels of concentration.

Therefore following her day of trying to keep Perdita under control, she wasn't in a particularly receptive state of mind when a vampire dropped out of the sky in front of her.

"Hello Agnes"


End file.
